


Blue Sedan

by thisgirlsays22



Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: Light Praise Kink, M/M, Romance, Season 1 Throwback
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 05:03:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21294020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisgirlsays22/pseuds/thisgirlsays22
Summary: That night and for every night over the next few weeks, Lassiter’s words play in Shawn’s mind.You astound me.
Relationships: Carlton Lassiter/Shawn Spencer
Comments: 22
Kudos: 389





	Blue Sedan

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been rewatching Psych thanks to Amazon Prime and good god I had forgotten this scene. Takes place immediately after the first five minutes of From the Earth to the Starbucks after Lassiter says that he’s astounded by Shawn.

That night and for every night over the next few weeks, Lassiter’s words play in Shawn’s mind. _You astound me_. No memory, no copy of the words, is able to do the originals justice. Shawn tries. He tweaks the tone, the inflections, even the level of blue of Lassiter’s eyes, and still he can’t quite capture the initial magic of the moment where he realized there was no punchline coming. 

It’s not that Shawn has never astounded people before. He has. He does. Frequently. It’s just that there’s often another accompanying emotion like irritation, frustration or fury which dilutes the astounded waters. 

He returns to the memory again. Maybe this time if he changes the lighting that magic will return. 

Shawn has developed a knack for tracking Lassiter’s whereabouts. From civil war reenactments to his favorite local haunts, Shawn prides himself on being able to find Lassiter whenever the desire arises. It doesn’t count as stalking if he does the same thing for Gus and Juliette. It doesn’t count as stalking when they all make the information so obvious. 

It especially doesn’t count when Lassiter is at the exact same bar at the exact same table where Shawn had found him before. 

Lassiter is not nearly as drunk this time, but his face is more open and relaxed than it was three hours ago at the precinct. 

“Spencer.” Lassiter lifts his drink in a half-salute. “I was just thinking about you.” It’s the best invitation Shawn is likely to get, so he slides into the empty chair beside Lassiter. 

“Do you think about me often when you drink, Lassie?” Shawn asks. And just like the magic of _ you astound me_, Shawn cannot get the tone of the question quite right. He means _ do you think about me often? _ And _ do you drink often? _ And maybe even _ do you want me when you drink? _

All the meanness and sarcastic barbs have fallen away, and instead, Lassiter's gaze remains open and inviting. Shawn catches the fleeting moment Lassiter’s eyes flick to Shawn’s lips, the flash of desire in his eyes. Maybe Shawn isn't playing fair, but maybe neither is Lassiter. 

Shawn leans in close enough to smell the smoky scent of Lassiter’s cologne, to breathe in the dizzying warmth of him, giving Lassiter a chance to maneuver them back into familiar territory. This doesn’t happen. They remain on this strange island far from anything safe and known, and Shawn was made for strange islands.

He leans in and kisses Lassiter. 

Lassiter’s lips are softer than Shawn would have imagined if he had taken time to think through the details of this moment. His whole life is comprised of thinking through and connecting tiny details, and so to be surprised by the softness as he nibbles on Lassiter’s lower lip is an unexpected joy. 

His hand reaches up to Lassiter’s tie, to pull his body closer as Shawn deepens the kiss that by all estimations should have ended mere seconds after it began. Every sign, every clue, would have made Shawn guess two seconds tops given Lassiter’s less than sober state. 

Instead, Lassiter is kissing him back with enthusiasm. One hand squeezes Shawn’s jean-clad thigh, the other is wrapped around the back of his neck. 

Shawn doesn’t know what happens next. It’s not the first or last time he thinks that being psychic would be incredibly useful. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Lassiter says, rising from the table. 

Heart pounding, Shawn follows. 

“I haven’t done this often,” Lassiter admits, a tight, casualness to the words that belie the vulnerability underneath. 

Shawn doesn’t say anything. His only response is to kiss Lassiter again, to slide one slicked finger in at a time as he works him open. Shawn hasn’t been with a man in a long, long time, but he’s cataloged all the things past lovers have enjoyed. He knows he can make this good for Lassiter. 

It’s when Shawn has Lassiter on all fours, gripping his hips so he can thrust in at an angle that has Lassiter whimpering and moaning out obscenities, that it hits Shawn that he is in bed with Carlton Lassiter. His eyes snapping open the moment Lassiter moans “Shawn” instead of “Spencer”, and he starts to lose control. It only takes a few quick, merciless thrusts before he’s pressing his forehead into Lassiter’s shoulder, biting down as he comes. 

He pulls out and wraps his hand around Lassiter’s cock, so hard and heavy in his hands that Shawn knows he’s close. 

Shawn tries something out, his curiosity getting the best of him. 

“Will you come for me, Carlton? Please?” There’s a teasing lilt to his words, but they’re mostly sincere. They have the intended effect: Lassiter lets out a strangled moan as he comes into Shawn’s hand, Shawn working him through his orgasm and murmuring praise into Lassiter’s throat. “That’s it. Just like that, Carlton. So good for me.”

Chests heaving, Shawn looks into Lassiter’s eyes and reaches over to run his fingers through his hair in an affectionate move that surprises them both. They don’t talk about whether or not Shawn should go home. 

They have another beer in the kitchen, and later Lassiter blows Shawn in the shower, and Shawn never gets around to leaving. 

Lassiter brings him coffee in bed the next morning, and Shawn realizes that these are the details he should have been paying attention to. That Lassiter is a man who brings his lover coffee in the morning despite his own hangover. 

“The blue sedan tip was really you?” Lassiter sets the coffee down on the bedside table, expression guarded. 

“You’re still thinking about that. Lassie, _ you _ are the one who astounds _ me_.” 

Lassiter gives Shawn a side-long glance and takes a sip of his sugar-cream concoction that can only be referred to, sympathetically, as ‘coffee’. A dusting of red heats up Lassiter’s cheeks at the reminder that he had admitted that Shawn Spencer astounded him. Shawn manages not to point this out to him. 

“It’s like you’ve just been here this whole time. In the--” Lassiter pauses to think, brow furrowing “--periphery. Calling in with tips about blue fucking sedans.” 

They are both vultures, but they are circling different prey. 

No silence falls between them because Shawn cannot allow it. He fills it with many words, none of which are the ones he really wants to say. He dances closer to the unnamed desire as he flips through their previous conversation, his mind presenting him with a perfect recording. Lassiter does not stop him. He sips his coffee while he keeps his eyes trained on Shawn. 

_ Please don’t look away from me, _Shawn thinks, words still flowing from his lips.

Shawn says, “You also told me that you’d tried everything to fix your marriage, including acupuncture.” 

Lassiter’s eyes widen in horror as he lowers his mug that had been halfway to his lips. The bright, relentless Santa Barbara sun creeps in around the edges of the curtains that haven’t been closed properly. Lassiter’s eyes are the bluest things Shawn thinks he’s ever seen. 

“I didn’t,” Lassiter protests. 

“Tell me? You most certainly did. I astound you and the lengths you went through to save your marriage were unparalleled.” 

There’s a long moment where Lassiter appraises Shawn and then his gaze slowly drags downward along Shawn’s bare torso and down to the sheets covering his hips, bare legs, and dick--which is stirring under Lassiter’s scrutiny. 

“I think,” Lassiter drawls after his eyes return to Shawn’s, “it’s safe to say that maybe I’ve somewhat given up on that pursuit.” 

“Well,” Shawn says gamely, “we can’t win ‘em all.” 

Lassiter hesitates then says, “You really think women want to do cannonballs into my eyes?” 

“I see your memory is very selective.” 

A smile slants Lassiter’s lips. _ Carlton _’s lips. 

This might be as close as Shawn will get to whatever the thing is that he’s been circling, at least today. He uses his special brand of reasoning and logic to reach this conclusion. He’s a smart man. An astounding man. 

Next time Lassiter brings up the blue sedan, maybe Shawn will grab his shoulders and say _ yes, Lassie, I’ve been here all along. You can’t escape me. _And Lassiter will know that means that Shawn has been there for a long time, is still here, and may, in fact, find that he very much would like to stay. 

And next time Shawn reminds Lassiter that he astounds him, maybe Lassiter will be brave enough to ask Shawn to stay. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I would love to hear what you think <3 Comments & kudos are always so appreciated!


End file.
